Page 168 of Her Blood Revenge

My men. My monsters. My loves.

This way, Neve will not be able to unleash her evil on the world ever again. With no blood goddess, there will be no blood witches.

I pull Shaw’s coat around me, surrounding myself with his scent. Such a small thing, but such a comfort.

That’s when I feel it. Feel its power thrumming from my pocket. I reach in and wrap my fingers around the cold, harsh blade. I pull it out and see it in my palm.

The god-killing blade. Dark magic ripples through it, straight to me. Hel feels it, too and turns rabid inside.

‘Everything happens for a reason, Hel,’ I tell her. ‘And now you will die at the hand of the weapons you created.’ I rest the blade on my throat. ‘Your blade. Your vessel. We’re your end.’

My life started with a blade being dragged across my throat. It seems only fitting that it is how it should end.

I take a deep and final breath, a smile on my lips and peace in my heart.

I cut deep, slicing my throat wide open in a swift, final and determined move.

I hear Hel scream her final scream. The blood that spills from me is as black as her heart.

And I know she has died the moment she falls silent and her mark disappears from my arm.

I close my eyes and spread my arms wide.

The blood above falls and swallows me whole. I spin and twirl, caught in its turbulent motion as it becomes the sea of death it once was. Bodies knock into me. Spirits scream. The blood witches are with me.

And I am just like them. Stuck in this place. Trapped in the blood that held us captive all our lives.

They grab and scratch at me, pulling me down. And I don’t fight them.

Arms firm around my middle and start to pull. I break the surface and hear the steady beating of wings.

Dorian…

His wings cut through the air at incredible speed and a slight silver shimmer where his eyes should be look at me in his arms. They see right through me.

His long fingers curl around my neck and rest firmly over the cut across my throat, trying to stop the bleeding.

My fingers slide beneath his hood and rest on his cheek. He’s cool to the touch, and his skin is silky and smooth. I lower his hood, revealing his face.

I take in the sharpness of his high cheekbones. The piercing of his eyes looks like sparkling starlight. His flesh seems to move like mist on the surface of a cool lake, and there are markings covering every inch of him. Intricate swirls and spirals circle one another endlessly.

He’s beautiful.

‘Stay with me, Poppet Doll,’ he warns, beating his wings harder.

There’s the slightest patch of the gateway left, and he tucks himself in small before soaring through.

And we leave hell behind for good.

Chapter thirty-two

The Necromancer

Dorian lands in the snow and gently places me on the ground. His hand stays on my throat, and I feel my blood seeping through his fingers.

Archie lands beside me and tears at his wrist, pressing it into my mouth. I swallow. His blood will heal me. It always has. I manage to take it in, but when Dorian moves his hand from my throat, blood continues to flow freely.

‘It’s not working,’ Archie whispers as tears fill his eyes. He even tries dripping it over the cut. ‘It’s not working!’ he yells, looking at Dorian in desperation. ‘Why isn’t she healing?’

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